


Baby, you've got to be more demanding

by Beloved



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Eye Gouging, Gore, Guro, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beloved/pseuds/Beloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I've never known what's good for me</i>
</p>
<p>An eye for an eye relieves boredom for a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby, you've got to be more demanding

One gets bored when they can't die for petty reasons. Start to wonder after a time if anyone really thinks 'yeah, I can see how gods would get bored' because they do.

He looks strikingly like Bro, Dave figures this is a pretty fucking obvious conclusion to draw, they're practically the same guy, except they aren't, but they are? Honestly it makes his head tingle with pain in the back of his skull.  
In the end, he accepts that Dirk is his own person.

His face tips down, lips pressing to Dirk's throat, it's warm, there's heat, he's _alive._  
It's glorious.

There are fingers in his cream-white hair now, Dirk's, they're slender, short nailed, and very rough from years of working with his hands, once upon a time Dave's hands were childhood soft and sheer-silk smooth, but not anymore, Sburb has ripped whatever softness he had left from the core of him, in the same way black holes rip stars from the sky, the same way he wants to rip Dirk into himself.

That's it in the end, that's what he thinks, Dirk is a fucking supernova and he's a black-hole, he just makes everything around him dark where Dirk makes everything bright. He wonders vaguely if Dirk thinks the same of him, and he wants to punch the guy in the nose at the very concept that Dirk can think he's anything less than brilliant.

They don't tell each other 'I love you' they don't, and never will, because Dave knows if his tongue curls at the taste of that bitter word then Dirk's must just die. 'I Love You' is meant for young lovers sitting on hillsides, sitting in sunsets, 'I Love You' doesn't exist in this place, 'I Love You' doesn't exist for them because they're like galaxies, they're like gods, they're seventeen going on infinity.

Dave gives a shuddering sigh when Dirk's free hand slides up under his god tier shirt to touch the skin underneath, he can feel Dirk counting the bones of his spine, _One Two Three, you belong to me._  
He bites at Dirk's collar bone in a silent _One Two Fuck you_ to the Prince of Heart.

The grass is unnaturally soft, there wasn't much grass in Dave's part of Texas and what grass there was, well, rough, scratchy, like nails in his skin just as much as the sun was teeth in his flesh.  
He lets a thumb glide beneath his not-brother's eye, watches how his lashes flutter, a dark, broken curtain of blond over sunlight orange.

Dave is pretty sure Dirk must have suns in his eyes because they bite at him just as much as the one in Texas did.  
“Take a picture, it'll last longer”

The Knight of Time snorts, he hates Dirk's stupid accent, he hates how familiar it is, he hates how he knows how to use it, because Dave never figured out how to do so without sounding like a hick, so he thinks.   
His thumb twitches, applying gentle pressure just beneath one of those captured suns.

This is what he does best, this is what black holes do best, they take.  
And take, and take.

One of his fingers slides up around an eye, he loves the way Dirk's breath catches in his throat, like he has butterflies in his lungs, and Dave resolves to steal those too.

But first, the sun.

“Don't scream” 

Dave's accent is muted, just as muted as he tries to keep the rest of himself, cool as ice water.

The first few times they did this, Dirk screamed, it was fine then because Dave screamed too.  
Now, Dirk just arches, a pale shadow of the thrashing he did the first few times, he hisses through his teeth, like an angry wildcat.

Dave's fingers know exactly what to do, they slide, swift and clever around the edge of the lid to the lacrimal canaliculi, and the pressure on the lacrimal sack makes tears gush down Dirk's face.  
Dave doesn't kiss them away, because that would be stupid.

Instead he pushes down and hooks his finger in a slow smooth motion, until he can twirl the optic nerve around his finger tip.

Dirk squirms slowly, Dave shifts his weight down hard on the teen's hips.  
“Suck it up”

Dirk keens.

Pulling upwards, he watches the ball of white and black and gold pop free, and he clips the hanging nerve and blood vessel with the nail of his thumb, holding it up in front of one of his own eyes, like he's trying to make Dirk look at himself, to really see himself, to really _take a good long look you ignorant fuck, why can't you see how perfect you are?_

Dirk does and thinks the same thing whenever his turn swings around.

Right now though all Dirk is thinking is that his eye really is a fucking sun because _holy shit it burns like a thousand imploding stars._

He loves it.

Everything is still for a time, while the blood dries on Dirk's face and both Striders sit in the presence of brothers who are not real brothers and just breath.

He pushes the second one inwards first, watches it dip in and then pop up again when he releases it, Dirk grunts, in either annoyance or encouragement, it's hard to tell and Dave doesn't care either way.

Dave watches that single eye roll and wonders how Dirk would look with marigolds growing in his skull, they would be just as bright, he thinks, but only half as beautiful.

There's an idle movement as he rolls the single remaining orb up into Dirk's skull, hiding the gold of it until he releases the organ once more, sliding a finger down the side, then a second down the other, he can feel Dirk trying to blink around the digits but he can't.

This one isn't pulled upwards, instead he pushes his fingers together to feel the give of it, further, further.  
It pops like a goddamn grape with the effort, and Dirk's lips pull up like the snarl of a wild animal.  
Dave is fully well aware that Dirk isn't angry over the pain, they wouldn't do this if they didn't love the pain, he's angry because now there's blood and eye fluid all over his pretty face and up in his bangs, and Dirk hates that, like, he can stand the fucking grease but not a bit of blood, nice.

“You want me to lick you clean or something?” it's disgusting, Dave knows it's disgusting, but the offer isn't real because Dirk's answer is always the same and Dave is glad for it because he isn't sure what he would do if Dirk told him to go ahead.

“That's fucking nasty Dave”

Like Dirk can talk about Nasty while he looks around with bleeding, empty holes in his face, they won't stay like that forever, his god tier powers will kick in and repair the damage in an hour or two, then it'll be Dave's turn, and while Dave thought of marigolds Dirk will lay above him and think of planting poppies in Dave's brain matter to match the crimson of his own gaze.

“You're nasty”

It's the closest they get to 'I Love You'  
They're okay with that.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kankiri on Tumblr.


End file.
